


Heavenly Light

by CosplayCatCriminal



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Angst, Drabble, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, One Shot, Short, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-11
Updated: 2019-06-11
Packaged: 2020-04-24 12:56:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19173742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CosplayCatCriminal/pseuds/CosplayCatCriminal
Summary: Vent fic involving Komahina, although Hinata is only mentioned and Komahina is slightly implied xgdgf.Anyways this is another unfinished story I'm dumping on y'all and this is gonna be the work for this month (June)Hopefully I'll have a full story to be put up by next month.





	Heavenly Light

**Author's Note:**

> Idk what this is I made this when I could hardly move my neck without my lymph nodes feeling like they were exploding and I couldn't even remember if it was my turn in a game.

yellingyeliingyellingyelling

 

Was it always yelling?

 

That's all he remembered, but memory was proven to be faulty.

 

Waking up, he felt the same as always, sick.

 

Always?

 

Well… Not always… 

 

But it felt like always.

 

When did this start?

 

Think think think.

 

Ah, it was useless anyway.

 

Fuzzy feelings of gasping in his sleep, struggling to move or even open his eyes or even get out a sound for help. Did he gasp? Maybe that was just in the dream. But he swore he reme-

 

Blank.

 

What was he thinking again?

 

Think think think.

 

Ah, it was useless anyway.

 

Sweat. Sticky. It soaked his body, matted down his usually untamable hair, practically plastered down any clothing on his body to wear it-

 

Awake.

 

He's awake.

 

Why did he feel so ungodly?

 

And as he sits up quickly, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and standing up. 

 

Shake. Tremors. Shake.

 

Oh, yeah, that's why.

 

Medicine.

 

Morning meds always calmed down the mess, the thing inside him. 

 

If only he knew what it was.

 

His vision goes back from black, lazily focusing back into view. Or, at least, what he could manage for right now. It was still fuzzy and blurry, like paints meshed together in water, he h

 

Where was he going with that.

 

He takes a cautious step, though it still managed to be clumsy, lazily laid out footwork and it was bending in ways that maybe weren't normal.  

 

Maybe.

 

Sharp pain radiates from his foot, but it took almost a minute to truly process it. Though, once he did, he was able to react normally.

 

Normal. Normal like a functioning huma-

 

He silently crumples up onto the ground, face not even changing from the neutral, the normal for Komaeda, face? What was the word? Straight lined face? Mouth? It was kept in a straight line, he had no reason for other expressions. Oh well, screw the word, it didn't matter. 

 

He removes his foot finally from the holding place of what piece of bedframe he always managed to step on. Frame. Frame. What a funny word, who thought those sounds would sound good together? 

 

It's been forty minutes since Nagito Komaeda had woken up, thinking about funny words. Heh. They sounded so weird. But funny!! He thinks of the word bowl, and laughs. Laugh. How long did he laugh? His lungs were burning, wheezing, his chest felt like it would cave in on itself.

 

The answer was 10 minutes.

 

Though it only felt like 30 seconds at most.

 

Why was he on the ground?

 

He decided that the word bowl made him double down in laughter. He can't think or believe any other deluded scenario. Bowl, he thought, funny.

 

His throat was sore.

 

Water.

 

Before he knew it he found himself at a sink, lapping up water from the faucet. Sink? Hey, was the sink new? How? He never remembered it being replaced. It was pretty, though, unlike him.

 

Pretty… He liked being called pretty!! Such a lovely word! He decided that it was much better than bowl, definitely. 

 

Fuzzy light static enters his vision, his mind.

 

“Y...re pr..ty..”

 

Only then he realizes that the water he was so desperately consuming, had become scolding hot. It was cold when he had it, it was always cold…. Or was it always hot…? And he finds himself questioning of which handle he turned… What handle he intended to turn…? 

  
 

**Author's Note:**

> Suggestions are open currently and are actually highly wanted!


End file.
